


Right Here Waiting

by AttackoftheDarkCurses



Series: Attack's Short Fics (Under 15K) [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Caretaking, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Handcuffs, Healthy Communication, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Angst, No Pregnancy, Pining, Protective Ben Solo, Reyux Breakup, Roomates, Smut, previous unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-11-02 05:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20640407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AttackoftheDarkCurses/pseuds/AttackoftheDarkCurses
Summary: Rey’s boyfriend dumps her while she’s handcuffed to her bed and then leaves, incorrectly assuming she has the keys to the cuffs. Ben has to rescue the very naked, very handcuffed, and very upset Rey— his roommate, who he has feelings for.From @reylo_prompts, the bane of my existence.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thebuildingsnotonfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebuildingsnotonfire/gifts).

> Onfire,
> 
> Smut aside (because, I'm sorry, but publicly gifting my husband smut is just too weird), maybe this is a thank you for showing me what unconditional love should look like. Maybe it's an apology for the time I wasted on a moron, while you were there the whole time. Maybe it's a thank you for wrapping up my (metaphorical) wounds. Maybe it's a reminder that we don't always need to speak the same language to be in love.
> 
> Or maybe this is just my language, and this is how I love you.
> 
> Yours, always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompts account will be my downfall.

Folders and papers fly from his hands as Ben trips up the stairs, having missed the stair railing. Funding requests spill across his apartment building's second floor landing.

There are some days, and today is one of them, when Ben thinks he'd either have quit or been fired by now if he didn't work for his family's own charity. It's good work, though. The only work that makes him feel less shitty about the things that went down while he was still putting his MBA to use working for the First Order.

Now, rather than taking money, he chooses who to give it to.

It only takes a minute to pick up all the documents, but they're no longer neatly organized. He's not patient enough to get them back the way the interns had arranged them, so Ben shuffles them into a haphazard pile and continues up the stairs.

There's music blasting from his apartment.

That doesn't bode well.

His roommate isn't the type of college student to host parties—that was the first thing he'd asked before agreeing to rent her the second bedroom. No, Rey wouldn't throw a party. Not without warning him, and not at 6 PM on a Wednesday.

The song from _St. Elmo's Fire _also doesn't strike him as a popular party song for early 20-somethings.

Still, opening his apartment door involves surviving a shock wave of enthusiastic mid-80s vocals, and a trumpet, Ben thinks.

_What the hell is Rey up to?_

At least her boyfriend—the insufferable redhead he wants to strangle no less than every time the man visits—isn't here. Armitage's loafers aren't at the door, nor is the pretentious air that follows him around.

"Hello?" he calls out.

By now, Rey should be home from class, and she should have his dining room table covered from corner to corner with textbooks, sticky notes, and printed articles. Rey's studious, often to the point where he feels the need to coax her into taking short breaks with the promise of snacks.

"Rey?"

_St. Elmo's Fire_ ends, much to his relief, and briefly he expects to see his sweet, mouthy roommate pop out of her room and chastise him playfully for interrupting an impromptu solo dance party. That'd be like Rey. He catches her dancing around their apartment sometimes, and it always comes with an annoying flare up of the feelings he harbors for her.

The song is replaced with what has to be the cheesiest song to come from the same decade, and Ben frowns at her bedroom door.

Something's off.

He drops his documents off on the table, yanks off his jacket, leaves his shoes by the door, and shuffles down the hallway toward their bedrooms. The music gets louder with each step, confirming his assumption that it's coming from her room.

Just as the singer proclaims they'll be _right here waiting_, Ben raps his knuckles on her bedroom door. "Rey? Everything okay?"

Barely audible over the music, she replies, her voice strained. "Ben? Ben! Oh my god, you're home! Can you come in here? Just… don't look?"

His eyebrows pull tighter in confusion, but he covers his eyes and opens her door. The music blasts at him. "Can you shut that off?"

"Don't you think I would have by now? Please save me from this '80s hell. It's been like this for hours, like some sort of demented prom."

He wants to laugh at that comment, but she's crying.

_Why is she crying?_

Ben doesn't ask, focusing on the music first. "Where's your laptop?

"My desk."

He stumbles over something—a textbook, probably—on her floor, but makes it to her desk without injury, and cracks his eyes open when he gets to her computer. It doesn't prompt him for a password, and he makes a mental note to remind her _yet again_ to set one, but he silences the music and sighs, happy with the silence.

Now that he can talk at a normal volume, he asks, "What's going on?"

She's sniffling, and if it wasn't for her vehement order that he not look, Ben would spin around and demand an explanation. Instead, he waits patiently for her reply.

"I'd rather not say."

It's hard not to be frustrated. "Can you at least tell me if you're okay? I'm getting the impression you're not."

"I'm…"

His grip on her desk chair tightens with her hesitation. "Rey. I need to know if you're okay."

"I'll be fine," she mumbles. It's a lie. It doesn't take a genius to know she's still crying, even if she's quiet about it.

A dozen different scenarios—ranging from the annoying, like she's just read a sad book and didn't feel like getting up to turn off the music, to the deeply concerning, like she's broken her leg—cross his mind.

"I need to know what the hell's going on," he blurts, wincing at his own demanding tone.

Rey sniffs again. "I think I've had enough of men snapping at me today, thank you. If you're going to be a dick, go ahead and leav— wait, no, please don't leave!"

Her voice is frantic, and he interrupts, hushing her. "I'm not leaving. I'm sorry I snapped, but I'm anxious and you won't tell me what's going on."

It takes a minute for her to reply, and when she does it comes out all at once. "I'mhandcuffedtothebedandIcan'treac—"

"Rey," he says softly. "Slower, please?"

The little whimpering sound she makes stabs at his heart. "Promise you won't laugh?"

"Of course I won't laugh."

"I… may be handcuffed to my bed frame," she admits. "I thought these had one of those easy release buttons, but they don't. The key's on my desk, next to the laptop. _Please_ don't laugh, my day has already been a nightmare."

Ben blinks, processing the mention of handcuffs. He looks down at her white-painted desk—there's a small silver key, placed next to her computer. "Any chance you'll tell me why you're handcuffed to a bed with music blasting loud enough to hear from the stairway?"

"The music wasn't my fault. The handcuffs… are self explanatory."

He squashes the jealous little voice that's urging him to find and punch Hux, and he snatches the key, spinning around to free her from her unintentional—

_Gobsmacked_ isn't enough to cover his reaction.

Rey is, indeed, handcuffed to her bedframe, but she'd failed to mention that she's handcuffed _and_ naked. To be fair, he should have guessed.

She's very, very naked, from her toned, bare arms that tense against uncomfortable metal, to her ankles, which are spread and tied to different corners of her bed frame.

He claps a hand over his eyes, despite every instinct that's screaming for him to commit to memory the placement of every freckle, the exact shade of rosy pink of her nipples, and the way her hips flare just so.

Unasked for but not unwelcome thoughts of gripping those hips pop up in his mind.

"I told you not to look!"

Ben works his mouth together, trying to determine how he'll help her without seeing anything. "I'm sorry, I forgot—I'll do my best not to again, but I need my eyes to get those cuffs open."

She's silent, considering it, and her reply is so soft he almost misses it. "Okay."

He turns his back to her and looks for something that might make her more comfortable. A magenta terry bathrobe hangs off a hook on the back of her door, and he grabs it.

"I'm going to put this over you, okay?"

"Please. I'm freezing." Her voice isn't firm as it normally would be. She sounds sad. Small. "It's so cold in here."

It _is_ frigid in the apartment, even for February. She's probably ice cold. He closes his eyes before turning back to her, and bumps into her bed, then spreads the robe down, hoping he's covered her well enough. "Am I okay to look?"

Rey sniffs again. "Yeah, it's okay. Can you just undo these please? They started hurting a while ago."

"Yeah, yeah, of course." Ben looks down, relieved to see he's gotten the robe over most of her.

There are tear tracks and mascara running down her cheeks.

He sees red, but focuses on the harsh metal cuffs that are wrapped around her wrists. With the key, they open easily, and he sits next to her, holding her shaking hands to inspect them.

Rey's wrists are circled in red. The discoloration of bruising is rising on her skin, and she flinches when his fingertips brush over it.

"Did you try to get out of them? What happened?"

She pulls her hands back, biting at her swollen bottom lip as she reaches down to untie her ankles. "I tried something with Armitage. It didn't go well."

"Didn't _go_ well? That's a nice way of saying he left you handcuffed and alone," Ben snaps. "Are you kidding me? Rey, that's-"

The glare she gives him is withering. "Don't."

"Don't? Don't what? Don't be worried about you? Don't be pissed at your boyfriend? Don't-"

"Don't assume you're the only one who's upset," she snarls. "Because _I_ just spent half my day like this, and _I_ am the one who got dumped when I tried to spice things up and _I_ am the one whose boyfriend left to meet some woman he'd matched with on Tinder. So stop acting like you're the one who's personally offended."

A sob erupts from her, cutting off anything else she might have said. Ben shuts his mouth and watches her tuck the robe under her arms, flex her feet, and wince as she rolls her wrists around. Now that he's getting a better look, it's clear that her eyes are red, and her face is blotchy and puffy from crying.

He might hate Hux, but for whatever reason, she didn't.

"I'm sorry." He catches one of her hands and studies her wrist. "Do you mind if I clean and bandage these? It looks like you rubbed them raw."

"I did."

He struggles not to let his anger show, but it's an impossible feat. "How long?"

Rey nibbles at the nails of her other hand. "What time is it?"

"A little after 6."

"Four hours. My afternoon class got cancelled, so I invited Arm-"

"Please don't say his name right now," Ben interrupts. "I'm trying to stay calm so I don't tick you off again and talking about him isn't helping. I'll be right back."

He leaves and brings a roll of medical tape, gauze, antibacterial ointment, and a warm, wet washcloth back from the bathroom, then begins to clean the spots that are red and raw, putting antibacterial ointment over most of it. Rey's eyes are laser focused, watching him while the occasional tear rolls down her cheeks. As he wraps gauze around her wrists, his gaze flicks to hers.

She opens her mouth to say something, but seems to change her mind, and only wipes at her eyes.

"What?"

Her eyebrows pull tighter. "You're… kind of protective, aren't you? I didn't notice that. How long have you not liked-" She stops, not speaking the prick's name. "My ex?"

Ben hums thoughtfully, taping the gauze. "How long has it been since the first time you brought him home?"

"Part of me wants to defend him," Rey sighs. "But today, I'm not feeling generous. He doesn't deserve it. Can I ask _why_ you never liked him?"

Ben shrugs. "It didn't seem like he was nice to you. I never heard about him suggesting dates, or doing things for you, but you were always thinking of ways to make him happy. He never stayed over—he always left once you'd fallen asleep. He never came over to watch a movie or keep you company when you had a bad day. Mostly it was just a feeling. An accurate one, I'd say, considering."

He pauses. "Did he leave you like this on purpose?"

If so, he really _might_ track the man down and—

"He's not that cruel," she whispers. "After he broke things off, I yelled at him to get out. I thought the cuffs had a release, and that I could get out of them myself. By the time I realized they didn't, he'd left, like I told him to."

Knowing that doesn't make Ben feel much better, but he nods. "But how does someone see _you_ waiting for them handcuffed to a bed and then leave to meet someone off Tinder? Is he blind? Not that I'm not glad he's gone, I just don't understand his thought process there."

A faint blush appears on her cheeks, but she doesn't reply. He swaps over to her other wrist and starts cleaning it, too. "What's the deal with the music?"

Rey groans. "I had a playlist on that I like, but once it played through the songs, it started shuffling through the next playlist."

"Which was… cheesy '80s music?"

"Apparently. That's been my hell for a few hours. I think I spent a whole hour listening to Cyndi Lauper."

"Harsh."

Rey lets out a humorless laugh. Another tear rolls down her cheek and he just can't help himself anymore. He cups her face, brushing her soft hazelnut waves to the side so he can wipe the tear from her skin.

He's seconds from finally telling her how beautiful she is when her lips press into a thin line, and her lashes flutter closed.

"Hey," he murmurs, "You don't have to act for me. You don't have to laugh and pretend you aren't upset right now. Anyone would be."

The unshed tears start to flow. He's never seen her upset before—never seen her cry, except for that time she watched the beginning of _Up_ without knowing what to expect. Rey buries her face in her hands, and her shoulders shake as she lets it all out, her breath coming in gasps.

Tentatively, Ben wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer until she leans into him. Whether she's seeking warmth or just comfort, Ben doesn't know, so he offers both.

"It- it's not the breakup. I don't care about that, not now that I know how awful he was," she mumbles, once she's caught her breath. "I was so alone, and scared you'd work late or leave to visit your parents and nobody would find me until tomorrow, or later."

His stomach turns when he realizes what she'd truly been afraid of. It brings him back to the night they'd had a few drinks, and she'd told him about her parents. At that thought, he pulls her closer, collecting her in his arms while wrapping the robe around her.

"You thought you'd been abandoned."

Rey nods and sobs into his chest, dampening his button up.

"Oh, Rey," he sighs. "I'm not going anywhere, and I always let you know when I'm going to be away."

"I know, I was just scared."

She curls up on his lap, letting him hug her, and on a normal day he'd be lost in the wonder of _Rey_ being so close, but now he's too worried and too angry.

"You don't have to be scared," he hushes. "Let's get out of your room for a bit, hm? I can make you some mac and cheese. I'll even make you the boxed kind you keep insisting is better than my homemade recipe."

Rey lets out a little sputtering laugh. She nods again, with her face still buried in his chest. It's a relief that he knows the best way to comfort her involves food.

"We've even got that trail mix that's more chocolate than nuts. Ice cream, too. I'll bring you a big bowl, and you can put that cartoon bug show on."

Her shoulders shake again, but Ben doesn't think it's from crying.

"It's not a bug show," she huffs. "The girl's superhero identity is just called Ladybug. It's cute."

"Sure, sure," he humors her.

Rey readjusts to stare up at him. Her hazel eyes are shining and reddened, and her face is still blotchy from crying. All he wants to do is hug her. Hug her, and keep her safe.

At least now she's smiling, even if her smile is small, and still a little sad.

"Thanks, Ben."

He squeezes her gently. "Any time."

* * *

Against his better judgement, Ben empties two cardboard boxes of noodles into a pot of boiling water, stirring them in. He'd love to make her a proper mac and cheese—his mother's recipe includes a thick white sauce and almost a pound of melted cheeses—but Rey's comfort food is the boxed stuff.

He almost considers it an insult to his otherwise gourmet kitchen, but doesn't argue. At least, he won't argue tonight. Not after the day she's had.

Ben peeks out at where she's sitting in the living room, flushed pink from a hot shower and bundled up in one of his old college hoodies that hangs to her mid-thigh. She's curled up on the couch, going through movie options.

One thing he's noticed in six months of cohabitation is that Rey rarely lets someone else take care of her. She doesn't rely on people. He's never seen her ex try to take care of her, though now Ben's pretty sure the man just wasn't a considerate partner.

The only time he can recall her asking for help was that time, back in December, maybe three or four months into her living in the apartment.

She'd been home sick from class for two days, and she'd been sick straight through the weekend with a high fever and no voice. Ben had needed to convince her to call out from her shifts at Maz's bar, and she'd soaked through a t-shirt burning through her fever.

It had been the first and only time she'd let him—or anyone, as far as he can tell—take care of her, bringing her soup, monitoring her temperature, making sure she slept… and as much as he'd hated seeing her sick, Ben liked being the person she'd relied on.

Back in his kitchen, he scoffs at himself, watching the water boil.

Only a moron would fall for their roommate. Their _much younger _roommate.

"Do we still have apples?" Rey asks from the couch.

He folds his arms over his chest. By that, she means "Do _you _still have apples?" because god forbid she buys any produce that doesn't come in dried or gummy form.

"Apples? You mean the things you slice up to use as peanut butter spoons?"

Rey's voice is saccharine sweet. "Yes. Do we have any?"

"I bought a bag on Monday," he laughs. "I'll bring you one with the mac and cheese. Did you find something to watch?"

"You won't like it. Have you heard of She-Ra?"

Ben frowns, trying to remember where he's heard the name. After a moment, he snorts. "What is it with you and cartoons? I haven't watched He-Man since I was a kid."

"Mm, this show is new-ish. 2018."

He spoons out a massive serving of chemically orange carbs, then gets himself a bowl, too. It's annoying how delicious the stuff is. Snatching an apple from the fruit bowl, he heads toward the living room, and inspects the show Rey has queued up.

"They must have done a reboot. In the original, She-Ra is He-Man's twin sister."

Rey tilts her head as he hands her a bowl and the apple. "Original? I didn't realize this was a reboot."

"Yeah. Really, what is it with you and cartoons?"

She shrugs. "People underestimate how good some of the writing is for animated shows. And with fight scenes and big events, they aren't as limited with a budget, because it's animated. Plus, they're fun." Rey looks over at him and teases, "Don't you know how to have fun?"

Ben rolls his eyes, but can't help his grin. She's joking, and it's a relief to see her in a better mood. The smile she gives him doesn't meet her eyes, but she's not crying, and that feels like a big improvement.

They eat in comfortable silence, until Rey finishes her bowl and sets it aside, curling up with the blanket they keep over the back of the couch. She leans against him, just like she normally would. He readjusts so she can rest her head on his chest.

Softly, she says, "You were right. About Armitage."

"Oh?" He doesn't dare to prod further.

"Yeah," Rey nods. "I didn't see it at the time, but you're right. He wasn't nice. I mean, he was nice enough, but he didn't do any of the stuff I thought boyfriends did. He wouldn't let me steal any of his sweaters. Even if he had, he didn't have any cozy ones."

Ben doesn't mention his own sweater, which she's wearing. She'd stolen it fresh from the dryer.

"He would _never_ have picked up tampons or anything—he avoided me whenever I was on my period. And remember that time I was sick? I'd asked him if he could swing by with cold meds on his way home from work and I'd pay him back, but he said he didn't want to catch anything from me." She grimaces. "And _god_ you should have heard the shit he said today."

"Probably a good thing I didn't," Ben mutters through gritted teeth. He sets his bowl on the coffee table, and Rey slides down until she's lying on her back, using his thigh as a pillow.

She continues, sounding numb. "When he saw how I was… uh, in my room… he made this comment about how _he'd_ have to do the work, like it was a chore or something. Like it was inconvenient. I should have told him to fuck off then, but I guess if I had hindsight I would have told him that a while ago."

The urge to shatter something flares up. He wants to grab the bowl he's just set down and toss it at a wall, or see if he can crush it in his grip. He doesn't. Instead, Ben focuses on breathing, and waits for her to go on while he plays with her hair.

"When his phone went off, I thought he was getting up to silence it and when he said he needed to leave, I asked him why. He just gave me this _look_. Like he was bored with me and had finally decided to say it."

"Did he?" Ben hisses, unable to hide his outrage.

Her eyes flick up to his. "No. Not exactly. He laughed, and told me I'd been 'sort of fun' and that we were done, and he was going to meet up with someone who'd be _more_ fun. It was pretty clear he meant sexually."

Unbelievable.

Ben deadpans, "So what you're telling me is that he was bad at sex?"

"I think the implication was that he was bored. Hence my attempt with the handcuffs."

He studies her for a moment. While they're talking so openly, honesty seems like a good idea. "Good sex has nothing to do with all the extra stuff. The handcuffs, toys, kinks—they're fun, great even, but that's not what makes sex good or entertaining. You know that, right?"

It almost kills him when she shrugs again. "I'm not sure I'd know. It's always been… fine."

_Fine_.

Ben chews at the inside of his mouth. "What do you think the point of using handcuffs is?"

"It's… kinky." She waves a hand. "Spices things up when they get dull."

This isn't a conversation he'd expected to have tonight. Or ever. Not with her head in his lap. Still, Ben replies, "I'd say they're a show of trust. You need to be able to trust that your partner won't be a dick and leave you stuck to a bed." At Rey's slight glare, he lightens up and explains, "The reason they're exciting is that, when you're in them, you don't know what your partner will do, and you have to trust them not to cross any of the boundaries you set. They're in complete control, and you're at their mercy."

Rey swallows. That's when he sees that her cheeks are flushed. "That's… not something I'd have done with him. Now that you've put it that way. There aren't many people I trust that much."

The hand that isn't playing with her hair finds her jaw, and his fingers ghost there, and down her throat, moving in random soothing patterns.

Her eyes lift to his. "I had a lot of time to think about things today. There wasn't much else to do. And… I think I've been a little blind."

"How so?"

She struggles for an answer, and lands on, "I'm wearing your sweater."

"You always wear my sweaters," he whispers.

Rey reaches up and catches his hand, nuzzling her face into it. "Yeah, that's my point."

Then, tenderly, she kisses his palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on twitter!  
[ Attack's Twitter](https://twitter.com/AttackotDC)  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter ended up being really long, so I split it--smut will be in the next chapter.

Normally, waking up on the couch would mean she'd either Uber'd back from Finn's still tipsy and didn't make it to her bedroom, or, she'd fallen asleep at the table and Ben hadn't been able to—or hadn't wanted to—wake her up.

Waking up on the couch has never included finding herself on top of her roommate, but when Rey comes to, sunlight is streaming through their windows and onto the cream carpet. She is rising and falling with his breaths. Ben's hand is cupping the back of her head, holding her to his chest.

Pulling away from him and going to class is the literal definition of _sucking_.

The next morning, she wakes up the same way, despite the fact that she and Ben aren't discussing why they're intent on sleeping in each other's arms.

There's just something reassuring about being so close to him.

It isn't until two days post-handcuff-fiasco, when Rey is in the shower, that she thinks about it, and replays the memory of cuddling up with her roommate—the guy who's far too sweet and caring to be single, or even real.

Each night since said fiasco, he's spread a blanket over them and watched a bunch of episodes of a show that must bore him to death, and he's spent the whole time playing with her hair and soothing a hand up and down her side.

Shower water falls down over her, and she thinks back to the hours she'd spent in her room, post-break up. Being handcuffed there was an effective way to get over someone. She'd had hours to do nothing but reflect.

Not that she'd ever recommend anyone try it willingly. Her wrists still lance with pain every once in a while.

Rey glances down at the scabbing sores. As awful as they look, they're improving, no doubt thanks to Ben chasing her down a few times a day with fresh wrappings and neosporin and a gentle touch. For a man so angry about what happened, he's tender with her. It's like he thinks she's made of glass.

She sighs, dropping her head back until the water streams over it, rinsing out the edible-smelling conditioner she often swipes from her roommate.

Breakups bring a lot to the surface, but Rey hadn't expected relief to be her overwhelming feeling. It is, though. After her computer had played a full Cyndi Lauper album—sadly not Taylor Swift, who would have been more appropriate—she'd felt relief, alongside the choking fear of being alone. Being left there, helpless, was terrifying, but the relationship ending was freeing.

The truth was, she'd spent the whole relationship chasing love and affection that should have been freely given, and now she knows it.

Oddly, she's not upset. It was hard to be invested in a relationship when she's been falling in love with someone else. Rey is sure she would have ended things herself if she'd realized it sooner.

But as she'd told Ben, she's been blind.

Ben, though… Ben is everything. Everything she wants in a partner. Everything she's always thought a partner would be, and they've never even admitted to having feelings for each other.

When she was scared and alone, there hadn't been anyone else she'd wanted to find her.

The conditioner rinses out, and she shuts off the water and climbs out of the shower, grabbing a fluffy green towel. The walk from their bathroom to her bedroom is short, and she steps quickly out into the hallway, trying to minimize the amount of water she leaves on the floor.

She stops short when she sees Ben coming out of his room.

He pauses, giving her a once over, his eyes following water as it rolls down her bare legs, and then his gaze snaps up to hers. Despite seeing her nude and spread out in front of him just two days earlier, he's careful not to stare. It's sweet. It's impossible not to smile at the adorable way his cheeks flush.

Ben clears his throat. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

There are a lot of ways to answer him. The simple _fine_, the more honest _I've been better_, or the full truth, which is what she goes with.

"Still shaken up." She could use another week straight of being held by him, because that's the only thing that's lessened the subtle terror that sunk in when she realized there was no safety button on the cuffs. "And I think we need to talk," she adds. "We haven't."

"We talked this morning," he frowns, oblivious. "And yesterday."

"Not about what happened on Wednesday." _About me kissing your hand, and about us cuddling_ is the unspoken bit, but Ben's deepening blush suggests he's caught her meaning. She takes a step closer, and another, until she's standing right in front of him.

The urge to just drop her towel is stifling, but she doesn't.

Ben watches her closely and stiffens when she leans up on her toes to kiss him. Just a peck, but on his lips this time, rather than his palm. His breath catches.

For a moment, she's worried she misread things, but then he chases her as she pulls away, catching her around the waist.

It's been inevitable, Rey thinks. Inevitable, that his mouth would someday slide over hers—that he would pull her against him, bowing her back with how possessively he kisses.

His lips work over hers as if he wants to soak her in and commit her to memory, and Rey sighs, reaching up to brush her fingers through his inky waves. Hands grasp her hips through the towel and Ben backs her up, pressing her to the wall behind her while his face drops to trail kisses down her neck.

The hands on her are familiar now. The lips, she's still adjusting to, but they're plush and sweet and _perfect_ and so very Ben, and she can't help but wonder how it ever felt anything but nauseating to kiss anyone else.

"Do you think you'd be willing to show me what you were talking about?" she asks, her head spinning from the enthusiastic response she hadn't expected.

Against her throat, Ben murmurs, "Show you what?"

"How it's supposed to be. With someone you trust."

He stills. Slowly, he stands back to full height, staring down at her with a blank expression. The subsequent fish-gaping only lasts for a moment while his blush reaches the tips of his ears, visible now that she's mussed up his hair. "Sorry, I'm still trying to process us kissing."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

Because the thing is, she _has_ imagined kissing Ben. She's thought about it plenty of times, awoken shy and embarrassed because she dreamed about it, but she's been entirely wrong about what it would be like. She's expected it to be sweet and comfortable, but it's more like being lit on fire—like she's a live wire and a switch has finally flipped.

Rey's still catching her breath when she prods, "Can I take you to dinner?"

His smile is breathtaking.

* * *

Dinner—like Ben's kissing—is far from what she expected.

They leave just as soon as she gets dressed, and after how she's been feeling lately, Rey doesn't bother dressing up. Ben's seen her sweat out a fever through ratty old pajamas and never mentioned being grossed out, so she doubts he'll judge her for wearing jeans and a plain white sweater under her winter jacket.

He keeps shooting her these looks as they walk around the corner to a diner she knows he likes, and it's as though he thinks she's about to laugh and tell him he's been Punk'd. He seems surprised any of this is happening. To be fair, she is, too.

When she pulls off the knit woolen mittens Rose knit her for Christmas and takes his hand, Ben stops them in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the blatantly annoyed looks of anyone around them.

He stares down at where their fingers are laced together.

"Ben? Is everything okay?"

Ben blinks at her, like he suddenly doesn't speak English, then tugs her hand, bringing her stumbling toward him with a laugh. He catches her, swallowing her laugh with his mouth as he cups her face and kisses her again. Maybe he's just remembered he's allowed to kiss her now.

It's like something out of a movie. Rey twines her arms around his neck, not caring how they're in the middle of a sidewalk—not caring that she's being kissed in public.

Everything falls away while his lips slide over hers.

They make it to the restaurant. Eventually. It's possible they stop for a few more kisses.

When they sit down, Ben doesn't try to order for her and he doesn't dissuade her when she subtly mentions how incredible the chili cheeseburger sounds. Rather, he _agrees_ and orders one himself with extra cheese and extra sweet potato fries, and he doesn't even hint that she might prefer a salad.

He doesn't cringe or chide when she makes a mess. He _laughs_.

"I've never been on a date here," Rey comments, once she starts working on her fries. Ben makes an odd, dumbstruck face, and she asks, "What?"

He shakes his head, returning to his fries. "Date," he echoes, and then lets out a huff of a laugh. "Just processing. It's hard to believe."

"You spend a lot of time processing," she teases.

Ben hums. "My world view's flipped around. A lot of surprising things have happened in the last few days."

"Good things?"

She asks it softly, nervous about his answer, because it's hitting her now that he hasn't explicitly agreed to a relationship. Maybe they've kissed, and he's been sweet, but she's only assumed he wants more, and since they're roommates this is shaky ground.

Rey spirals for a moment before he responds. What if he's attracted to her, but just taking pity on her? What if he only wanted a hook up? What if he's interested, but doesn't want to risk making things awkward?

"Very good things," Ben whispers, reaching out to take her hand. It fits so well in his, and his thumb rubs over the gauze and tape that's still around her wrist. "I just wish it hadn't all come about because of…"

His words trail off, but she nods. "Better late than never?"

Ben squeezes her hand in agreement.

A waitress comes by to drop off the bill, and they only bicker over it for a minute, until she says, "Please? I need to make up for the last few days."

He frowns at that and leans in. "You say it like it's been a burden. Exactly which part do you think has been hard on me? Cooking you dinner? Falling asleep holding you? Holding your hands while I change your bandages?" He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, it's been awful. _Truly_ miserable."

There's something he doesn't realize, though. Those things—_all_ of those things—have made her a burden to others. Needing to be taken care of made her a burden to her parents, she assumes, made her a burden to Plutt after them. Anyone who's needed to take care of her hasn't stuck around. She doesn't let people take care of her anymore.

She doesn't let her friends do nice things without swift reciprocation. Any time she'd gone out with Armitage—though they'd rarely gone on dates—they'd split the bill cleanly, despite him making a much higher salary. The _one_ time she asked him to buy her cold meds, she planned to pay him back in full and apologize for the inconvenience.

But she's never known how to handle Ben.

Ben, the man who wakes her up when she's passed out over a textbook so he can put a plate of freshly cooked food in front of her, or carry her to the couch, or her bed. The man who always leaves a sweater of his out for her to steal—the man who may very well punch Armitage if he ever sees him again.

"Hasn't it been?" she asks, terrified of the answer. "A burden? Aren't _I_ a burden?"

His jaw goes slack. He stares at her for a moment, like he's waiting for her to explain or continue, but when she doesn't, he lets out a humorless laugh. "You're kidding."

Rey shakes her head.

Ben looks almost sad. "Rey… no. You've never been a burden. All of that—the dinners, sleeping on the couch, the bandage swaps, everything—I did it because I wanted to, because I _enjoy_ taking care of you." Then, he adds in a whisper, "Because I adore you, and I don't know how else to show it. I couldn't exactly kiss you or take you out to dinners when you were with someone."

It's a hell of a thing to say in a conversation that started with them arguing over who should pay the bill.

She swallows. "Oh."

Ben seems just as surprised he's said the words as she is, but he doesn't take them back.

He doubles down.

He squeezes her hand again. "You mean so much to me. I hope that doesn't scare you off, but… I'm glad I can finally say it."

"It doesn't scare me."

"No?"

There's a hopeful look in his eyes, and Rey is… _terrified_, but if there's a way to be terrified in a good way, that's what she is.

Her gaze flicks down to the bill in his hand. It's not even for that much. Barely twenty dollars, plus tip, but usually thinking of someone paying for her is akin to listening to hours of nails down a chalkboard at full volume.

"I'll get the next one," she finds herself whispering.

Ben lets out a breath, like a sigh of relief. "There'll be a lot. I hope."

Her lips quirk up. "I hope so, too."

* * *

It seems like such a silly thing, to be nervous as she walks up the stairs to their apartment. Ben follows behind her silently, and when they stop in front of their door, it's like they're saying goodnight. As if they aren't about to walk inside together and change back into pajamas and cuddle during a Netflix show, like they usually do.

But _usual_ has been knocked off course, completely thrown off the rails, because the way Ben's eyes gaze at her mouth before he leans down is anything but _usual._

For some reason she expects it to be a peck, but it's the furthest thing from a peck he could give. He catches her lips and instinct kicks in, and she smiles against his mouth, sighing like she's finally come home after an arduous day.

His mouth moves languidly in the most tender kiss anyone's ever given her, not that there are many to note.

It changes, no less gentle, but it becomes playful as his head tilts, and he nips at her bottom lip and grins and nuzzles his nose into her cheek. If she wasn't so distracted, Rey would wonder why she never knew that kissing could be playful and erotic, but it's both—especially with Ben's plump lips and wandering tongue.

It's like she's never really been kissed before, not if _this_ is kissing. She presses her hands into his chest, tugging at his bottom lip with her teeth.

Possibly the only thing that could break them apart, happens. Their neighbor, the cranky old man across the hall who hogs up all the laundry machines in the building and files noise complaints at the drop of a hat, opens his door, his glare turning withering as he catches them making out against their door.

Ben clears his throat, turning to their door, and unlocks it, grabbing her hand to pull her inside.

Getting inside adds another level of unsurety to the situation. Ben continues into their apartment, shucking off his shoes and hanging his jacket, but Rey leans back against their closed door, watching him, wondering how things work now that they've crossed that invisible line between friends and something else.

"Did you have homework tonight, or do you want to watch something?" he asks, as though she's the only one whose head is spinning.

Rey blinks at him.

His expression wavers between cautious and confused. "Rey? Did you want to pick a movie or something?"

"I think I know what you mean," she murmurs. "About the processing."

"Processing?" Realization dawns on him, and he nods, relieved. "Good to know it's not just me." He takes a few steps, and presses her back against the door, ducking down to kiss her forehead. It's a comforting gesture—not being pressed against the door, but he's kissed her forehead a bunch of times—and she tries to relax. "It's weird, isn't it? Not in a bad way. Just… like everything's flipped and shaken and turned right side up. It's hard to believe."

"Yeah," she breathes, leaning against his chest. "It's just like that."

His thumb soothes over her hip as he clutches her. "That's why I suggested doing what we usually do, while we… adjust. The couch, a movie, some popcorn?"

The words get blurted out, and it takes her a moment to realize it's _her_ mouth that spoke them. "Or we could rip the band-aid off."

Rey's sure she turns a deep shade of red the same second Ben realizes what she means. He flushes, too, and looks to the side, unable to meet her eyes while he grins. "I- I guess that'd be one way to handle it." Slowly, he looks back to her. When he speaks again, his voice is low and warm. Sensual, even. "Do you want to?"

It's the same tone he used when they were on the couch a few days earlier, discussing what made for good sex. Rey supposes she's about to find out.

She nods.

* * *

Ben's hands are _magic_.

It's like they're everywhere, all at once, groping and squeezing and cupping as he guides them toward the couch. Now that the tension between them has snapped, there's no way they'd make it to one of the bedrooms, so he falls back onto the plush surface and pulls her down to straddle him.

Rey squirms on him, her thighs tightening, but Ben slows her down. He's got a hold on her ass with one hand, and he's clutching the back of her head with the other, holding her close while his lips go from frantic to something gentle. Something slow, but promising.

It takes too long for his mouth to move off hers, and when it does, his kisses burn a trail over her jaw, and down her neck, where he laves at the hollow of her throat. "I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs there.

Rey laughs softly, and he interrupts her, pressing his lips to hers again.

He kisses as though he's desperate for her. Like he'll never get enough, and like he thinks every kiss could be his last. It's like he's trying to make them one being, trying to merge their souls though a kiss.

If this is how he kisses…

Rey struggles to imagine what sex with him might be like. Anything she's imagined already pales in comparison to just kissing him.

His hands pull at her hips, trying to close the little distance that's still between their bodies, and he licks into her mouth, and groans. His grip tightens, but then his hands slip to her thighs, and slide up under his own sweater. Fingers trace the edges of the lace she's wearing.

It's dizzying.

Unprompted, Ben stands, catching her in his arms, and walks out of the living room with her legs wrapped around him. She's too lost in trying to nibble at his lip, and in trying to get him to groan again, to notice they're in his room until he puts her down on his bed.

She's never been in his room. They usually stick to the living room.

It's spotless. Crisp white linens, dark wood furniture, and little else to note, save for the single framed picture, which rests on his nightstand.

It's a picture of them, taken three months after she moved in. They'd gone to lunch with Poe and Finn, and sat in the same booth across from the two. She'd thought nothing of it when Poe had grinned and taken out his phone, gesturing for them to get closer for a picture.

They look… effortlessly happy, but she's never seen this photo before.

"Are you sure?" Ben asks again, a little breathlessly. He's standing in front of her, and he must notice her staring at the photo. Must see her notice the way he'd been looking at her that day, caught perfectly by a camera.

He lets out a breath. "That's when I realized it."

In the picture, she's laughing, her head falling back like someone's just told an exceptional joke, and Ben's next to her, an arm around her waist. Staring at her, wistfully, with the softest hint of a smile.

"That's when I realized I love you," he clarifies, but he doesn't need to.

She can tell. That's how he looks at her now.

It should be terrifying, hearing that, especially so soon. It should freak her out and send her from the room, but this is _Ben_, and she already knows.

She knows. Maybe he hadn't said the words, but he's told her. He hinted at it over their dinner at the diner, but it's more than that. If she's being honest with herself, he tells her with every touch. Every smile. With every lingering look, and with every plate of food he shoves in her direction.

Rey swallows, some unfamiliar emotions clawing at her throat. Standing between her legs, Ben smiles down at her, but it doesn't seem like he expects a reply. Instead, he repeats, softly, "Are you sure you want to? We don't need to rush."

"This doesn't feel like rushing," she says honestly.

It should. On paper, it is.

In reality, Rey's just wondering what took them so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on twitter!  
[ Attack's Twitter](https://twitter.com/AttackotDC)  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a surprising amount of time to figure out why this one went angsty and soft instead of straight PWP.
> 
> Anyway.

Ben's still considering her, like he's not sure she's sure, as though she didn't suggest this herself. She wants to say something—maybe tell him it's sweet he's so concerned or hesitant, but he comes to a decision and climbs over her, pressing her into the mattress with a soft kiss.

"I just want to make sure," he murmurs, then pauses and sits up over her. His gaze is weighty. She gets the feeling that this is something he's worried about. "Are you-"

Rey doesn't let him ask again. "I'm sure."

He hesitates but nods and meets her for a kiss, slowly pushing her back against the bed. His body is a comforting weight as he settles between her thighs.

Underneath him, Rey wriggles out of her sweater, dropping it off the side of his bed. Ben ducks his head to mouth at her through the lace bralette she'd tossed on before they left for dinner and then groans against her collarbone.

"Your tits are perfect," he sighs, the word sounding filthy from his lips. "They're such a nice shade of pink. You know when you blush, your chest flushes, too? I wonder how prettily you'll blush when I make you come."

She gasps, both at his words and at the way his mouth latches around one of her nipples, after he pulls down the lace. "I wouldn't know," she breathes.

"Mm? We'll need to use a mirror sometime. You can watch."

It's surreal, the way they're assuming this is just the first of countless nights together. It's as unbelievable as the idea that this is _Ben_ licking her and saying sweet, filthy words in his husky voice.

Rey's hands leave him and start working at her jeans, unbuttoning them and trying to force them down her thighs, but Ben—who seems to have a new infatuation with her breasts—is in her way. "Clothes, off?" is all she works out before he's sitting back and lifting her legs, peeling the jeans off her like he's desperate to get her naked.

Only a minute later, she's bared to him, both the bralette and matching bottoms flung somewhere she'll probably never find them, and Ben… he's just staring. His chest rises and falls while his unblinking eyes map her out, and slowly, he spreads her legs, letting out a breath.

She waits for him to say something and then lets out a frustrated huff when she realizes he's still dressed.

"Off, now," she orders, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. "Pants, too. All of it."

Ben looks like he's heartbroken that he'll need to take his eyes off her for a brief second, but he does so, yanking off the shirt she'll steal later.

There were times—treasured, wonderful moments Rey's ingrained in her memory—when she'd wake up early and find him in the kitchen shirtless, making coffee or oatmeal for breakfast. He would always redden and make an excuse to get back to his room and put a shirt on, so she'd only have a moment to gawk at the hard planes of muscle.

Now, she can gawk _and_ touch.

His pants are next, kicked off onto the floor, his boxer briefs with them, and for a moment she can only blink because his cock is…

It's only when he speaks that she looks up and realizes he's got an eyebrow raised. "You look worried."

"I'm not worried," she says, but it's less humorous and more defensive than she'd intended. Her eyes drop back down to him, and she swallows. She's _not_ worried, because while she's never had anything quite that girth _or_ length inside her, Ben's also probably not the type to think foreplay is optional. "We'll… prep."

Ben laughs, and climbs back over her, dipping down to mouth at her collarbone.

A new partner would normally make her anxious, though there isn't a large enough sample pool to really test that claim. It's nerve-wracking, being with a new person and not knowing how to touch them, or what their expectations or preferences might be. Nerve-wracking and even intimidating.

But Ben is something else. There are no nerves as he stares down at her, or as his fingertips skim across her jawline. No anxiety—no questions or worries or fears on her mind—when he presses his palm to her chest, right over her heart, or while his throat bobs.

There's only breathlessness, because she _knows_ him. She knows him better than some guy she's had dinner with four or five times, even better than some idiot she's dated for months.

She just hadn't known him like _this_.

Ben kisses her, opening his mouth to stroke at her tongue while their bodies press together, and Rey aches with the need to be touched. Her hands slide over him, desperate and longing for more, but now that they're both bare, Ben seems content with staying settled between her legs. Just kissing her, like it's all he needs.

For the first time, Rey thinks this would be enough. Like _this_, just them being close, would be enough for both of them, and if she told Ben she wanted to do this for the rest of the night, he'd agree with no hesitation.

He moves from her lips to nibble along her jaw, but Rey's struggling to process the hard cock pressed, almost forgotten, against her upper thigh. She tries to reach him, but Ben lets out a breathy laugh against her throat and playfully swats her hand away.

"Stop rushing," he scolds, when she whines and tightens her legs around him, trying to urge him closer. "You asked me to show you how it can be, so let me."

It's hard to argue with that.

Still, she tries to roll her hips up to meet him, tries to run his hands over him, tries to do anything to ensure he's not doing all the work.

Ben's words are a whisper that feathers out over the hollow of her throat. "Relax, Rey. Please. Just let me do something for you. I _want_ to."

And that's the foreign part. The part where he doesn't just assume that she'll get herself wet then get what she needs from three to seven minutes of jackhammering.

One of his hands slides down, cupping between her legs, and Rey lets her eyes flutter closed—lets him take over, and tries to stop feeling guilty for not immediately reciprocating. His fingers spread her, and his thumb presses and swirls over her clit until she wiggles her hips, looking for more.

Ben lets out a pleased hum, rolling off her to lie down next to her on his side. He plays with her, circling her clit or tracing around her opening, and it doesn't seem like he's trying to work her toward anything. His head ducks down, licking and sucking at her nipples until they're puckered and sensitive.

"Did- did you want to tie me up?" she offers. He's already doing so much for her, shouldn't he get something he might want, too?

"I will," he murmurs, before lapping at her again. "Eventually. If you want to. Not tonight."

Ben hesitates and looks up at her with his chin rested on her breast. "Do you believe me when I say this is what I want right now? That all I want to do is make you feel good?"

It's new, not needing to chase her own pleasure while someone focuses on their own, but with those comforting, genuine eyes, there's no way she could _not_ believe him. She nods.

The corners of his mouth quirk up. He sits back on his heels and leans over her to kiss down her abdomen, nudging her legs back apart to make room for himself. He settles onto the mattress there, his hands pressed to her inner thighs, high enough that his fingertips brush against her folds.

And Rey… doesn't know what to do. Her mind blanks the moment she realizes his intentions, and when his eyes cut to hers, Rey swallows, and blurts, "I thought we were going to have sex?"

Between her thighs, Ben's head tilts. She can feel his breath on her, can feel his fingers spreading her open to him, and it's a heady, overpowering thing.

Ben's voice is thick and intoxicating. "This _is_ sex." His expression grows curious as he studies her undoubtedly nervous expression. "Has anyone ever tasted you?" he prods. "Can I?" Rey has half a mind to say no, because what if she tastes weird, or what if-

But then he asks, so desperately, like he'll be heartbroken if he can't get his mouth on her, "Please?"

At her hesitant nod, his hands slip under her, lifting her hips and forcing her legs to fall more to the side. It opens her up to him, and Rey's cheeks burn at the way he stares down with his face so close to her. When he leans in, she rests back against the pillow under her, too shy to watch him.

And Ben—Ben is _exceptional_ at this. At least, she guesses he is, because her head spins from the moment he runs his tongue up and down her. It's the lightest pressure, barely a caress, but it's got her hips jerking until Ben licks her in earnest and groans. His mouth works over her, exploring her, and… and it's like he _enjoys_ it.

Her voice is embarrassingly breathy when she asks, "Is- is this something you like?"

Ben pauses mid-lick, and she can feel him snort, can feel his breath on her when he asks in disbelief, "Did you just ask me if I like this?"

"Seems like a relevant question," she mumbles.

When she looks up, his brow is furrowed.

"Rey," he says bluntly, "I think eating your cunt is a form of self care. If you don't want me to, tell me, otherwise, stop worrying and let me get back to it."

She's not sure what to say to that, and whatever she might say would come out in a stammer, so Rey shuts up. Her eyes flutter closed when he presses his face to her again, flicking and massaging her with his tongue, weaving through her folds. Pressure spirals over her clit, making her legs tremble, but Ben only squeezes her thighs, holding her there, and sucks her into his mouth.

It makes her tingly and lightheaded, the more he sucks and laps at her, squeezing her ass as he holds her to his face. It makes her wonder why she's ever wasted her time doing anything that doesn't involve Ben and a bed, because this—all of this, from his touch to his words, and the looks he's been giving her—it's heaven.

Her hips buck when Ben slowly pushes a finger inside her, curling it in a way that pulls a throaty moan from her. The way he moves it in her, back and forth and massaging, has her shuddering and seeing stars. Rey foregoes her restraint and reaches down to lace her fingers through his messy mop of dark waves. It seems to spur him on.

Ben works his jaw, devouring her now, his nose nudging at her clit, and the moment two thick fingers are scissoring inside her, Rey quivers against his mouth, crying out as it washes over her—the burning pressure that snaps and flows out into her body while she tries not to lose her mind to the feeling.

She's not sure when it stops, but Rey catches her breath and finds herself cradled to his chest. One of his hands soothes down her back.

When she opens her eyes, his hair is hanging down around her face, and Ben's looking at her like she's the answer to every question he's ever had.

* * *

Ben sits with his back against the headboard with her in his lap, wondering how—just, how? How is this his real life, and what did he ever do to have someone like Rey look at him the way she's looking at him right now?

Her pink, kiss-swollen lips are parted, like she's stunned now that she's lowering down onto him. Ben holds one of her hips, slowing her, and cups her face with his other hand, sliding his finger across her cheek. There are freckles there, little spots of color that have him mesmerized, and he leans forward to kiss them.

A distraction—any distraction—is welcome, because Rey's trying to take all of him, biting at her lower lip as she rises off him and drops back down, taking more each time. The way she grips him is…

Ben nips at her when she sinks down all the way, inhaling sharply as her movements stop. Her head tips back, and he kisses across her neck while she shivers in his arms.

They stay like that, with his face pressed to the crook of her neck, and her heartbeat pounding against his chest. It feels like the time is necessary—like they've both crossed some line and their worlds need readjusting.

It hits him that this is _Rey_ in his arms, full of _him_, and it's _Rey_ clutching at him like she needs something to hold on to. Part of him wants to hold her for hours, just like this. Savor it, make sure he'll remember this perfectly in thirty years from now, even if this is the only time they do this, because Ben's sure he's peaked. Life won't get better than this exact moment.

But then Rey makes a soft noise, and grabs his shoulder, and rolls her hips, and he realizes he was very, very wrong.

Ben catches her mouth, pressing a tender kiss there, and moves on to kiss cheeks and her nose, anywhere, any part of her he can get his lips on. His fingertips dig into her sides hard enough to bruise as she sets a pace that makes him whimper.

It's incredible and perfect and every other fucking synonym for those words, but Ben needs more. He's aching to be closer to her somehow, and he snaps, readjusting them without warning. Pushing Rey back, he presses her into the mattress again and swallows the little yelp she makes. He slides back into her, unyielding as her cunt stretches around him.

Rey's hands squeeze at his shoulders and tug at his hair, urging him to move faster, but Ben ignores it, working in and dragging out of her slowly. The legs wrapped around his waist try to pull him closer, like Rey needs them to be as close as physically possible—it's something they agree on.

He drops onto his elbows over her, and their chests press together so her nipples drag across his skin with every thrust. Ben kisses and sucks and nips at her throat, and the _sound _she makes. He wants it ingrained in his memory, rooted deeply so he can never forget it, because short of her laugh, it's the best sound he's ever heard.

It's a cross between a moan and an appreciative sigh, and she makes it as she rolls her hips up into him. "That," he breathes, the words landing against the hollow of her neck. "That sound, right there. That's what good sex is."

His hand cups her breast, thumb rolling over her nipple, and Rey shudders.

"That, too," he murmurs. "It's about wanting to make someone feel good. About wanting to make them make those sounds." He bites her shoulder gently. "Make more pretty noises for me."

Rey's legs squeeze him again, and he catches one, hiking it closer to her chest so he can push in further. Her back arches as he fucks into her, gripping her hips hard.

A stunning blush covers her chest, and Rey's jaw is slack. She props herself up on her elbows and unabashedly stares down at where their bodies meet, her eyes going wide at the view like she can't believe what she's seeing. Her legs shake, and the filthiest little needy sounds leave her lips—it's more than enough to make him want to hear what other sounds she might make for him.

Ben reaches between them, swiping his fingers across and around her clit. It's clumsy, much clumsier than the way he'd prefer to tease her, but Rey's head still falls back, and she squeezes her eyes shut and clamps a hand over her mouth to muffle her cry.

He can _feel_ her orgasm. It starts with her thighs quivering, and her hand grabbing desperately at his chest, and then her cunt grips him and throbs and this—_this_ is the best thing he's ever experienced. Rey, under him, shaking and reveling in what _he's_ doing to her.

His words come out in a disjointed stammer—_fuck_, _Rey, yes, good, so good_—and as she squeezes him, jolts of pleasure flick up his spine, dipping into him as he rolls his hips into her. And Rey, _Rey _grabs his shoulder and pulls him down, kissing him with the sort of desperation Ben thought only he had. She tilts her hips up, urging him on, and pants against his skin, "Faster, please, Ben-"

He's too gone to argue, so he drives forward into her, picking up the unsteady pace until he's racking her body with thrusts. The blabbered words of praise fall from his mouth without his permission.

"So fucking good, Rey…. Perfect, wanted you so much… _love you._"

He says the words over and over and over until she captures his mouth, her lips working over his with something that transcends gentleness. When she comes again, it's with him, while his body seizes and fills with a warm, languid feeling. Ben shudders and groans, his hand gripping the bedsheet so roughly it's a wonder it didn't rip.

His forehead presses to hers, and he murmurs it again, this time against her lips.

"I love you."

That's when he realizes her face is wet.

He pulls back, only far enough to stare down at her, and sees her looking up at him with wide, damp hazel eyes. There's a little bit of fear that sets in, and when she sees the unasked question in his expression, the soft smile she gives him is nothing short of beaming. She's radiant. Glowing, even.

"They're good tears," she whispers, clearing his confusion and concern. "I've… I've just never felt so loved before. It's a lot. I didn't know it could be like this."

Ben's expression softens. "Oh."

He lowers back down, rolling them onto their sides, and hugs her close to his chest, peppering tender kisses across her face and forehead and mouth. "You _are_ loved," he murmurs. "So much, Rey."

The words sound choked up in her throat as she lets out a quiet sob.

"I know."

* * *

They date for months. Rey thinks they'll date for much longer, and eventually they stop keeping track of the time—it feels irrelevant, and dating Ben turns out to be a new experience. A few months in and she wonders if she's ever truly dated, or if this simply can't be called dating, because whatever this is, she's never done it.

It isn't the flowers he buys her, though she loves the way their scent fills the apartment. It isn't the dinners or movie tickets he pays for, even if she appreciates spending so much time with him.

It's all the little things—the way he walks her to their apartment door after a date and kisses her like they're saying goodnight, the little sticky notes he puts on her door with sweet messages whenever he leaves before she does in the morning, the way he makes her a Netflix profile and fills the queue with all the cute shows she likes, though Rey suspects he had the ulterior motive of decluttering his own profile.

It doesn't take her long to realize these things are only building upon all the little things he's always done for her.

She stops worrying. Stops wondering if she's enough. Stops thinking he'll grow bored with her, because Ben would never—_could_ never. He loves her more deeply than she thought possible, and it barely takes any time for her to admit to feeling the same.

Rey loves him so much it hurts.

Some nights his head rests in her lap, and she plays with his hair, much like he's always done for her. She puts in little braids and calls him little names.

Sweetheart. Baby. _Love._

She starts to understand that love isn't a game of math. It's not zero sum. There are no points.

Nothing to track, no _I owe you_, no _you do too much_.

Love is just love, and they both give it freely, and not only does she learn that real love is freely given, but giving love freely is _freeing_.

It's like standing on a cliff and looking out at an ocean while she realizes how much of everything there is, because there is _so_ much love, just in their little apartment. Some days it feels like she's about to burst with it.

Their love is vast—as vast as that ocean—and they give it to each other, every bit, however they know how.

She aches for him. Misses him desperately, even with his head in her lap and her heart in his hands, and if anyone's tallying all the ways they show their love, Rey's sure the scoreboard would show they've both won.

And now, when Ben smiles at her—that wide, no longer rare, toothy grin—Rey thinks she can see her future.

It's warm, and breathtaking, and so full of love that she lets herself drown in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on twitter!  
[ Attack's Twitter](https://twitter.com/AttackotDC)  



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